be ok
by Trilies
Summary: There's a lot that Chrome doesn't know about the family she has taken for her own, a past they've shared which is so unknown to her. On a day that's only supposed to be a mundane grocery run, one which she's not even involved in, she ends up learning just a little more.


When Chrome first hears a burst of Italian reverberating through the Kokuyo's emptiness- too sharp and violent on the tongue to be anything but a swear- she at first thinks it's Fran's fault. Their youngest members likes to tease and harass almost more than Mukuro himself does. Next she thinks that maybe M.M. has come for a visit, sharp tongued and mocking. It could even be that Chikusa left behind something or, when none of them were looking, went and came back for the groceries he was supposed to get, and something isn't to Ken's taste. With such a group gathered all together in one place, there's no shortage of things that could make someone's temper flare up.

As it turns out, the victim of Ken's bad mood _is_ Chikusa… but it's not because of any groceries. Honestly... it doesn't look like Chikusa has even gotten up at all.

Instead, the other teenager is draped lengthwise across one of Mukuro's favorite couches, body limp as a fresh corpse. His expressions are always hard to read, of course... but Chrome can discern even less details from the doorway. For a while more, she lingers there, and watches. Ken's back is tense, bristling with coiled energy. Even where she stands, she can see the way his lips have curled up, exposing his fangs. When he slams his foot to kick at the couch, she's not particularly surprised. "Stupid shitty kappa!" he snarls, the Japanese harsher in his mouth than the foreign swearing had been. "Of all the times to go!"

Chikusa still doesn't move. Finally, tentative, Chrome steps away from the door frame. "I thought Chikusa was supposed to go shopping today," she says. Ken's head snaps to the side, wary as a dog, although he certainly had to hear her coming down the hallway. No one's ears are sharper than Ken's. "Did something come up?"

Ken slams one more petulant kick to the base of the couch before he turns partially away. With him facing her, even just a little bit, it's a lot easier to read Ken's expression than Chikusa's. Teeth bared, eyes dark- it all almost looks like a typical glare. However, there's a faint tremble to the way his eyebrows are scrunched together. Such a subtle thing, and yet it makes the look on his face somehow different. "That's not what I mean, stupid!" he snaps. As usual, the insult feels a little empty on his tongue. Unless it's Mukuro, Ken insults everyone; it's not a sign of how much he cares or doesn't. "Kakipi is already gone!"

On the couch, Chikusa still hasn't moved, and Chrome takes a few steps further into the room so that she can inspect him better. While she's still not entirely certain she's as good as Mukuro when it comes to weaving or identifying illusions, no matter what the Boss or Mammon might say otherwise... She's confident enough in her assessment right now. Chikusa is definitely there, in the physical and quite real world, on the couch. As with most furniture that's in Kokuyo Land, his limbs don't fit on it comfortably. His legs are sprawled out, one foot dangling over an armrest while the other bends awkwardly with one foot to the ground. Much the same can be said for one of his arms, which is in a similar position, leaving its partner folded up loosely against his stomach. All of it, as far as she can tell, is perfectly normal Chikusa behavior. She's seen it dozens of times before.

What she hasn't seen before… is the strange look in his eyes.

For all that Ken is aggravated, he doesn't object to her coming up besides him so that she can hover in uneasy concern over Chikusa. "Is he sick?" she asks. Chikusa is by far not the most emotive person in the world. His expressions are more subtle than she has learned to properly read, and the usual hunch of his shoulders blares out his distaste in being, well. In being at most places with most people. But right now… Brows crunched together, she leans over to look into his face better. He almost seems dazed. Yet when she reaches over to try and check his temperature, his hand reaches up to bat her fingertips away. So he's still conscious enough to do that, at least.

Ken snorts dismissively from behind her. "No, he's not sick. He just-" Even as she turns around, Ken is fidgeting and his shoe scuffs into the floor. "He gets like this. Stupid and annoying kappa."

"…Like this?" In the time that Chrome has known Chikusa, she can't really recall him getting anything like this… Then again, that doesn't mean it hasn't happened. These two used to avoid her often, after all, when she was still a new presence interfering with the comfortable intimacy of a trio.

"Yeah. He goes away, and it's a pain." Stepping closer himself, Ken starts to dig through his partner's pockets. Unlike with her, Chikusa doesn't stop him. He just grumbles a little bit, trying to shift away. Chrome thinks it's some sort of Italian, although she can't pick out the exact words. "A lot of the time, he can just keep going until he comes back, and people hardly notice. He can still kill people like this, so it's fine."

That's hard to imagine from Chrome's perspective, considering Chikusa is a corpse on a mattress. Still, she takes Ken's word for it, and gets out of his way when he pulls back. "What…?"

Ken makes a face at her, clutching Chikusa's wallet. Well, more like it was someone else's wallet, once, before it got stolen by an Italian teenager for his own purposes. There might still be a driver's license in there. "Kakipi can't go shopping today, so we'll just have to do it!"

For some reason, that strikes her as unwise. When they want actual cooked meals which give them energy that lasts longer than a second, well, it's Chikusa who goes out to get the proper food, and Chikkusa who ultimately cooks everything for them. One wouldn't think it, especially looking at him now where he's motionless on rotted through cushions, but it's true. Honestly, Chrome has to admit it makes a kind of sense. All the details of Mukuro's life, alongside that of Ken and Chikusa, are not known to her. She just knows enough to paint broad strokes of a picture: hiding from the eye of society and the underworld both, keeping to themselves, relying on themselves. Mukuro has too many plots and pride for cooking, although maybe not for petty theft, and that takes a bit too much carefulness which doesn't befit someone like Ken. That leaves Chikusa, even if it takes too much energy for proper cooking and he seems to silently complain every time. Still, food is food, and it is a necessity. He's always gone through with it before.

Yet if he's in this kind of state, cooking might not happen regardless. As she stares at Ken thumbing through Chikusa's wallet, where Mukuro has allowed them a decent allowance for at least something, she can't help ponder if that might almost be better than what Ken is liable to buy. "Okay," she says anyway, before turning her attention back to Chikusa's limp body. Even now as they've been talking, his eyes are focused on the ceiling and beyond. "Is it alright if Chikusa is just left here…?"

As it is prone to do, Ken's tongue flops out, although this time it's at least on purpose. "He'll be fine. Kakipi isn't so stupid to die here in our own base!" It's not really a question of stupidity, honestly, but there's no arguing with Ken. Chrome just nods, and trails after him as he stomps out with hunched shoulders.

Getting to anywhere halfway civilized from Kokuyo Land takes a long while. Chrome politely keeps her questions to herself, not wanting to add anymore fuel to the fire of Ken's temper, at least for the trek out of the building and down to the main road. He only gets that long, however. With the long stretch of asphalt spelling out just how long they'll have besides one another, Chrome finally brings herself to speak. "Has Chikusa always gone like this sometimes…?" Conscious, but 'gone', his mind obviously roaming somewhere else.

One of Ken's feet snaps out, kicking a rock a good few meters ahead of them. "As far as I can remember," Ken grumbles, which is both a long time and maybe not long at all. It's not as if they're very old, any of them… But at the same time, childhood to adolescence is long enough. Chrome takes it for what it means, and waits for him to grumble on further. With Ken, it hardly takes much prodding at all to get him to spill anything. That's made all the more true when it's something that's bothering him. "Although I guess it was creepier when we were kids."

"…Creepier?" Blinking, she tilts her head to the side. Chikusa is already adept at being creepy right now, with the way he's able to stare at someone for extended periods of time, no blinking, no emotions.

A snort pops out from Ken's nostrils. "Yeah! He'd be just-" His hands strangle through the air, knuckles tense and jerking his fingers about. "Silent. Like, dead. And then out of nowhere, he'd burst out crying." Suddenly and sharply, his hands swing down to stuff themselves into his pockets. "Creepy."

"Ah…" Her chin tilts up, eyes focused on the blue stretched out high over their head, and Chrome tries to imagine what a crying Chikusa even looks like. It's impossible, in the same way that she can never imagine what the sound of his laughter sounds like, or even how it looks when he smiles. Not for the first time, she ponders at the secrets that the boys all keep- things they know of one another that no one else does. She's been lucky, she supposes, to know what she does of Mukuro. But Chikusa and Ken… They have secrets only they know, and ones only Mukuro knows of. Expressions and feelings hidden away from the rest of the world… After a few seconds of musing, something else occurs to her. "When did he stop?"

Tongue still hanging out of his mouth, Ken looks over at her with his nose scrunched up. "Haa?"

"When did he stop crying?" she clarifies. Chikusa is only fifteen. The exact dates of the boys' escape from the Estraneo are unknown to her, but she knows that it can't have been too long, right?

"What does it matter?"

All she can do in response to that is shrug. "I guess it doesn't," she says, and leaves it at that. Yet clearly the question won't filter through Ken's mind so easily. All the way along the road, she can see the way his shoulders go up to his ears and the aggressively confused furrow of his brow. It's only when the warm smell of smoke and distant food heralds their proximity to the town does he perk up, worries cast aside.

That's when Chrome deems it a little safer to speak up again, once they're out of the daylight and in the artificial brightness of the conbini. "You said that he can usually still do things when he's like this, didn't you?" she asks. Before her, Ken is shamelessly dumping chocolate snacks into his basket. In other words, food guaranteed not to fill them up at all. All of Chikusa's careful organization towards their combined allowance is going to waste so easily. Maybe they'll have to call Mukuro again to get something better or, more likely, appeal to M.M. in some way. Chrome could use illusions to bypass all of this… but she won't. "Do you think he's sick if he's just laying down?" That would mean some allowance would have to be set to the side for some sort of over the counter medicine, if it's treatable.

At this, too, Ken snorts. "No, he's just lazy." Despite the words that are coming out of his mouth, he still pauses to warily eye some fruit that have been set to the side in a little stand. "If it weren't for Mukuro-sama, then he wouldn't get up at all for anything. I know it." As they round a corner, he snuffs his sneakers against the tile and smacks one foot against a stand. Thankfully, it doesn't fall over. They don't need that kind of attention today, and Ken's the type who always draws it towards himself regardless.

Faintly, Chrome wonders if Ken is a little bit jealous of that fact… but it's not for her to ask. It's not as if she would get a straight answer anyway. Instead, she grabs some onigiri so that they have at least something to eat that will be a little more than sugar and empty energy. "I like Chikusa," she says simply, brushing against the side of Ken's arm as she leans near to him. A flush blazes furiously across his face; she can't tell if it's at the words or the touch. Either way, it doesn't mean anything. She's just here to drop the onigiri into the basket. "And Ken. It would have been nice if he at least had the energy to come shopping with us…"

Ken's face loses the hot heat of a flush, and he scowls over in the direction of the drinks. "It wouldn't have changed much," he grumbles. Plastic clatters heavily against the basket as he carelessly shoves the bottles in there. She's just glad it doesn't squish the onigiri. "He'd still be just as gone. When he's like that, hardly enough gets him out of it. Maybe if he wasn't such a useless lump, he'd come back…"

"How?"

His shoulders jerk up in a sharp shrug. "I know a way," is all he says, which is helpful in the same way her bootlaces would be helpful for this particular situation. "But I'm not gonna tell it to you, stupid!" Childishly, he sticks his tongue out right at her.

Perhaps that's the best she should have expected out of someone like Ken. Carefully putting in some bottled water alongside the soda Ken shoves in- they'll need it for brushing their teeth if nothing else- Chrome raises an eyebrow. "Why? Isn't it better if we all know how to help Chikusa...?" That's the sensible thing to do. At the same time, sensible is apparently a lot to ask when it comes to some things in their group.

There's no answer from Ken. At least, it doesn't come right away, leaving her to trail after him in the wake of his aggravated stomping. Now, they're less browsing the aisles and Ken is more stalking through them in a particularly aggravated mood. Chrome doesn't speak up, either. In the time she's had to spend with them all- Mukuro, Ken, Chikusa- she's at least tentatively learned how to weather their tempers. Mukuro's is a little harder to parse, sometimes. In direct contrast, Ken is much simpler and easier. All she has to do is wait patiently, sticking with him the entire time. Eventually, unable to find anything else to occupy his attention or add to the contents of their basket which is already filled to the brim, he huffs quietly but distinctly. "Only me and Mukuro-sama can do it anyway," he grumbles, the words drawn tight together in the way that they leave his mouth. "No one would be able to do it the same."

She wonders if that's true. She says, instead, "Alright." There's not much time for conversation anyways; the register is right before them. Their conversations aren't meant for normal people... And, sometimes, they're not _quite_ bizarre enough to misdirect people into thinking that they're talking about a game or a comic. Perhaps they need more highly skilled toddlers in their life.

If there's any good news, it's that they _somehow_ don't manage to spend all of the allowance Chikusa had gathered together despite filling their basket as much as they could. (Well, as much as Ken could.) The bad news is that he takes this as incentive to spend the rest of it, which is something that perks him right up. Almost helplessly, Chrome shrugs at the cashier, and waits until Ken comes back with his hands full. For a second, she thinks she almost spots actual fruit hidden amongst the boxes of gum he has... It's such a bizarre idea that by the time she blinks and tries to look further, everything is already stuffed into bags.

"Chikusa," she says, looking down at their full hands as they begin the long walk back home, "isn't going to be happy about this when he comes back."

A big fat raspberry is Ken's response this time. "That dumb kappa doesn't get a say!"

Well, it's pretty hard to argue with what is essentially grade-schooler logic, which is one of only two brands of logic which Ken cares to employ most of the time. The other is "mafia" logic, or, rather, the kind of logic that is brought about when one has lived almost their entire life being hunted by the mafia, along with what is undoubtedly most law enforcement.

That's also pretty hard to argue with, for entirely different reasons than the grade-schooler logic.

At least it signals to Chrome that there's no reason to bother continuing on with the subject of Chikusa. Instead, she focuses on the long walk back which stays mostly quiet saved for the occasional outburst from Ken if she walks too close or looks too long at the bags in his hands. It's not too bad, honestly, not with good weather and Ken's blush bright on his face. All of it is so patiently mundane that is's a surprise when Ken suddenly perks up. By this point, they're not too far from entering the building proper, and, if it wasn't for the things they're both carrying, she'd mistake his interest for food possibly cooking... but there's only one reason that Ken could otherwise get excited and go rushing inside without another second to waste. Tugging her own bags up to her chest, she goes hurrying after him. Human speed against animal speed tends to lose out, of course. She's not expecting to beat Ken. Rather, it's her own bubbling heart encouraging her onwards right after him.

There's something that's lurked in her head for over a year now, a soft lazy presence who only seems to laugh at her when she mentally reaches out to it. So, for lack of better option, she runs.

Sure enough, there's Mukuro.

He's right in his favorite spot, near the couch in the stage area. Ken is literally at his feet, looking up at him in adoration and unbridled delight while he digs through the bags he got. Such attention doesn't seem to be earning much, honestly. No more than usual, which is relaxed amusement from their leader as he leans against the side of the couch. Even from the doorway, Chrome spots how his hand has slunk down to rest across Chikusa's eyes. It's almost absentminded, the way it rests there- as if the cool curve of leather had always belonged against Chikusa's skin. In a way that's a little bit ironic coming from someone who allowed him to use her own body as his own, Chrome can't help but see it as something... intimate. Not allowed for regular people.

She is not regular people, she reminds herself, and trots further into the room. Ken's rummaging has only become more annoyed, tossing aside box after box of gum. Stepping up onto the stage, she offers her own bags to him. The ones that actually, in fact, have chocolate in them. He stares at her blankly for a moment, as if he's completely forgotten that she was with him in the first place, before snatching them out of her hands greedily. There's no thanks, but she wasn't expecting any. Even Chikusa doesn't use any such niceties like that, and Chikusa is the one most likely to not get any strange looks in polite society. It only takes less than a second for Ken to pull out a bag of chocolate rice puffs, which he offers proudly to Mukuro. "Here, Mukuro-sama! We went grocery shopping!"

Calling what they've just done 'grocery stopping' is an incredibly generous lie. Instead of calling either of them out for it, Mukuro chuckles, and accepts the bag. Then again, he's getting chocolate, so of course he won't say anything. "I can see that," he says lazily, popping the bag open.

It's not exactly praise, so Ken starts to dig through the bags again. Patiently, Chrome puts down the rest of hers and watches him pull out what is indeed an apple. An actual apple, made of actual apple skin and apple chunks, with a healthy red and yellow coloring. So she _hadn't_ been spacing out. He really did make an attempt to get something resembling actual groceries. Glowing proudly with even just this much, Ken offers that to him as well. "Here, have this as well, Mukuro-sama."

Apples aren't chocolate; Mukuro gives a half second pause before recovering. His amusement seems to have only grown, now. "You did very good, Ken," he says, shoulders shaking softly even as Ken basks in the attention. They're only scraps, but Ken is more than glad to accept them. With the bag of chocolate grain puff resting on his lap, Mukuro takes the apple as well... Only to deposit it onto Chikusa's chest when Ken isn't looking.

Over the sound of Ken gathering the bags into his arms, Chrome makes a soft huff that can't be heard even to him with his animal hearing. _Mukuro-sama. It's a good apple._

Unfortunately, Mukuro has always been impervious to scolding of any kind, no matter how gentle or how many chains are involved. He shifts some of the puff into his mouth, utterly relaxed. "Why don't you put all of your hard work away, Ken?" he says out loud, attention focused on his subordinate. "We'll eat all of it later." Hopefully he doesn't mean _all_ of it, or else all of _them_ will get sick. That's enough to have Ken rushing to gather everything in his arms, however, burning with pleasure at the idea of getting more praise. In the meanwhile, Mukuro's voice slips quietly along to her. _It looks like you were kept busy, my dear Chrome._

He's not even answering her response. Typical. Chrome watches Ken hop off the stage, bags wobbling from their position in his arms. _Ken insisted._ And she had questions, obviously. As Ken wobbles out of sight with the groceries, she tears her attention away from him back to the very reason she'd been so curious. Chikusa's glasses are slid half off of his face, hanging mostly from one ear and partially over his lips where one lens has fogged up. Instead of staring blankly into nothing, dead eyed and gone, his gaze has been hidden behind his shut eyelids. It seems better for him this way, although she can't tell if he's sleeping or not. Chikusa's breath is slow more often than not, in a strange and quiet way. Carefully, she adjusts her skirt as she kneels down besides him. Her head is almost level with Chikusa's this way. _Will he be alright?_

Plastic shifts and crumples, echoing loudly in the mostly empty room, while Mukuro searches out a handful of snacks. _Was Ken's answer not enough to satisfy you?_ Briefly, Chrome entertains the thought that he might have been listening during the conversation, or that he's read her thoughts, but dismisses both of them quite readily. By this point, even with how much she's grown to be more independent, her and Mukuro are close enough to know when the other is pressing in on their mind in any way. And it's because they're so close, in ways that have nothing to do with a connection of mind and soul, that he could probably guess all on his own that she would have questions for Ken. Either way, Chrome doesn't bother to deny it. Her shoulders merely rise up, a simple and small little gesture of concession. Both out loud and in the quiet whisper of their connection, Mukuro chuckles softly.

Finally, she offers some sort of reply. _I thought you might be able to explain it a little more in detail._ It's nothing against Ken, of course. She's sure he knows a lot, and certainly he had acted with familiar quickness at Chikusa's state. It's just, sometimes, what Ken knows doesn't always get translated well when put into words said aloud.

 _I'm sure that the amount of detail Ken gave was more than enough._ In other words, he was being honest, but... _I suppose I can fill you in on the depth which Ken neglected to delve into._ Tilting his head back for the last handful of grain, he crumples the opening of the bag into a tight roll so that nothing might escape and drops it rather unceremoniously down besides the couch. Chrome hopes he remembers that it's there, and doesn't just leave it for stray vermin to find. They get enough of that because of the simple fact that Kokuyo Land is a set of buildings in utter ruin. The idle thought is knocked clean out of her head by the next words Mukuro transfers over to her. _What do you think Chikusa was given?_

None of the words make sense, and Chrome blinks up at Mukuro with zero comprehension. He doesn't meet her stare back, however. No, he just perches on the arm of the couch, legs crossed and his arms folded behind his head as he reclines against what of the back that he can. In a much more relaxed way than the dead stillness of Chikusa, his eyes are also closed. Despite all of this... More than she sees him, or hears him, or anything else, Chrome can feel the way a part of Mukuro detaches from his physical body. He doesn't go far; Mukuro rarely seems to anymore. Perhaps it's because she's more of a person herself, decided on the things she wants to do and the things she wants to possess for herself alone. Perhaps it's because of unpleasant events in the past. Chikusa's prone and silent body, fortunately, isn't very far at all. Chrome stays quiet, feeling him curl around the other boy's body more like smoke, more like fire, than anything tangible. All the while, she tries to decipher his sentence. After a moment, she gives up. _I don't understand._

Mukuro's settled around Chikusa quite firmly now, she thinks. His physical body is mostly still as well, save for the steady rise of his chest with every breath and the way one foot lazily taps against empty air. _Ken was given his channels. I was given this eye of mine._ There are words, underneath the ones he gives to her so freely. Words that can only underline themselves behind another set in the realm of thoughts, away from whatever is considered 'possible' to the human tongue. He says, at the same time that he doesn't say, that it didn't matter if he wanted a new eye, if Ken wanted more teeth. Such things were forcefully given to them, whether they liked it or not. _If that's the case, what do you believe Chikusa was given, my dear Chrome?_

And, staring down at Chikusa's still and worn down body against the couch, she realizes she has no idea. Even more, she realizes it's never occurred to her to really ask.

Which is almost kind of silly in some ways, and almost shameful in others, although the latter one is a little harder for her to explain. Chikusa has always been so quiet, hiding in shadows and behind the boisterous loudness that was Ken. Trying to guess what he was thinking has always been a little difficult. He helped keep them safe, helped keep them fed, helped temper some of Mukuro's worse inclinations when she wasn't sure how to.. He's been so quiet, somehow it was easier to think of him as a facet of life than to think on the details that made him himself. Only, now she _is_ thinking... and that doesn't seem to bring answers to her any easier.

In the back of her head, she can feel Mukuro laughing at her again, and he offers nothing else, let alone anything helpful.

Feeling a little bit stubborn, she continues to try and think. What was Chikusa given? Like the rest of him, it feels so hard to tell, especially in comparison to Mukuro and Ken who are both so much more flashier, so much more blatant. It suits their personalities, she guesses... or maybe it's their personalities which have ended up suiting their abilities. Leaning closer, her cheek smooshes against the couch cushions as she looks over at where Chikusa is resting so silently, with even his breath a quiet and hardly noticeable thing.

Ken can channel, only needing a particular set of teeth to slot into his gums before his body warps. Muscles growing, shifting, bones adjusting, claws or fangs growing... All to make him stronger, faster, more powerful.

Mukuro can do so much more than that, with that eye of his. There are his illusions, of course, and those are his most powerful trick of all. At the same time, he can also make his own body stronger or influence animals, or copy the abilities of so many other people... When he isn't outright taking control of their body all on his own.

Chikusa... He can disappear almost into non-existence, another faceless blur in the crowd, another unimportant shape in the shadows. She's seen him do it, almost right before her very eyes. Unlike her, unlike Mukuro, he doesn't need illusions to hide from prying eyes. Chikusa is just a natural assassin in that way, or a thief when he needs to be. And when Chrome thinks about him being a thief... She thinks about Chikusa's hands, silent and quick in so much of what he does when he's forced into action. Hands that shoplift, hands that pickpocket, hands that slide tiny little needles into skin and into carefully arranged slots, a device no one suspects... There's so much he does with his hands when Chrome stops to think about it. Theft, murder, those are all the obvious ones, but she's seen him carefully measure out poison in the same manner that he lays out the ingredients for dinner on the rare occasion that they can manage anything for it. She's seen him repair and create those yoyos of his, devices as complex as they are small there in the grip of his hand. Whenever her or Ken are injured, too, he patches them together with bandages or even sutures. (And surely he's done the same for Mukuro, although she knows neither would ever let it slip out that such as happened. Lies are as vital to illusion as the power which gets put into it.)

Yet, while she can think of Chikusa doing so much for them in his silent way... None of that, she knows, are things which were given to him. They're the kind of things which must be learned, through study and experience. They can't be given to him, not through force or otherwise.

Minute after minute ticks on, until finally she lets out a slow breath against couch fabric and the sleeve of Chikusa's arm. _I don't know._ After this long, she truly can't say otherwise.

Mukuro's amusement is tar thick... but fleeting, unsaid. No match for the way she can feel his presence possessively tight over Chikusa's body, and everything else which lies within it. When his voice comes to her mind, it's carefully unburdened of any emotion which might give him away. _That would be because... he was given nothing._ Chrome's confusion presses up against him, a faint flutter just strong enough to nudge, and Mukuro obliges her. _I suppose, if anything, he had things taken away._

 _On purpose?_

The answering disdain is as good as any curl of the lip, even while Mukuro's physical expression doesn't change in the slightest. _Hardly._

Chrome doesn't have to say much more on that subject. In fact, she's almost not sure if she wants to. She knows the past that Mukuro and the others share, in the rough basics that she has to admit aren't any more than what the Boss himself know, too. It almost feels like too deep... as if she's not allowed. How much can she ask? How much is she allowed to?

Perhaps more than she's thought, even if only a little bit, because Mukuro continues to speak. _There are always broken versions before the successes. How broken they are depends on how close one is to their goal._

He doesn't explain further. He doesn't need to. There were only three survivors from the Estraneo Famiglia. Two of them were possibly everything that the Estraneo could have dreamed of. For the third to be so quiet, to be effective not from experiments but from hard work...

...For him to go silent and distant and 'gone'...

Asking questions doesn't seem like such a tentative thing right now, not with the way Mukuro is being so forthcoming for once. _Is this why he doesn't seem to notice when he's hurt? Because he gets like this?_ She's seen it happen more than once, after all, both in battle and during the mundane parts of their lives. A wound that would have anyone else buckling over, a scrape or cut going completely ignored until Ken snaps at him for it...

 _Oh, it's not like that._ Mukuro's breezy response is ruined by a brief pause, and then a correction. _Well, not_ ** _entirely_** _. I suppose that aspect of it is mixed._

So the Estraneo did do something to him... it just coincides too closely with all the unintended side effects, the ones that have nothing to do with science and everything to do with thoughtless cruelty. There's a lot more she could ask, honestly. Many more questions are there, lurking in the deeper parts of her... but Chrome learned a long time ago that not all questions need to be asked. Not all of them deserve to be. So, instead, she asks the only one that truly matters in the end. "Is there anything I can do to help him...?"

A good part of Mukuro is still there, anchoring Chikusa down as if that will help bring his mind back to wherever it's gone. Who knows? Perhaps it will. The rest of him, however, is in his body, and his body gives a low lazy hum. "Who knows?" he says cryptically, because things sometimes just can't be easy with him.

"Mukuro-sama, you do," she points out simply, because sometimes that's all that can be done about it. Going along with his dramatic ways, after all, often just means things take twice as long as they should. Now really isn't the time anyway.

A light huff of laughter slips out of his mouth, and then out of Chikusa's mouth, too. Chrome isn't entirely surprised to see Chikusa straighten up, movements more smooth and prompt than they would be normally. It's honestly not a surprise for her that Mukuro can't quite mimic Chikusa correctly. For most people, honestly, it's hard to attain that level of careful lethargy which can so instantly snap into something dangerous. It's what gives him away, even as Chrome tilts her head back to take in Chikusa's face. The darkness of the theatre doesn't lend itself well to observation, but her eyes have long since had time to adjust. This close, she can way the skin on one side of face is just a little too off-color, reminiscent of a bruise beginning to form, or the way parts of his right eye match are just a little too pink behind his glasses. The finally damning bit of evidence emerges when he speaks. "If you really insist on helping, my cute little Chrome," says Mukuro's tone from behind Chikusa's teeth, "then I think you can help take Chikusa back to your rooms and hold his hand until he wakes."

Relocating Chikusa to another room isn't really a surprising suggestion to hear. The hand holding, however, is something she's not sure she would ever have expected. She's left blinking blankly while Mukuro swings Chikusa's legs over her head so that he can get up onto his feet. When the apple roll, he catches it and sets it to the side easily enough. "Is that all?" she asks after a second to get herself together.

Seeing Mukuro's lazy smirk on Chikusa's face is a surreal experience, and he offers a hand to her. "That's all," he says simply. For lack of any better ideas, Chrome accepts, and pulls herself up onto her feet. As she escorts Chikusa's puppeted body across the theatre floor, she can hear Mukuro's actual body slide off of his perch and flop quite comfortably in the warm pace that Chikusa has left behind. Faintly, Chrome can't help but wonder if that was maybe a very faint factor into Mukuro's choice on what to do.

Oh well.

Kokuyo Land was built to be a lot of things: zoo, bowling alley, theatre, restaurant. It was certainly never meant to be a home. Thus, like so many things in their lives, a lot of it has had to be cobbled together by discarded junk and ingenuity. Some people have beds. Chrome puts Chikusa to rest in a sleeping bag set atop more than a dozen chair cushions of varying size which are all held together in a raggedy bedsheet. It's easy enough to tell when Mukuro leaves his body for the time being. There's no casual hold to his body. Instead, as himself and not entirely in the present, Chikusa goes utterly limp where she's awkwardly tucked him into the sleeping bag. The only exception is one arm which she's tugged out. Even with both of her hands folded around his, one to knuckles, one to palm, they don't seem to be enough to hold onto him completely. Like so much of him, his hand is just a little too long.

Without a watch, it's hard to tell just how long she sits there with her legs neatly folded underneath herself and her hands not so neatly folded around Chikusa's hand. On one hand, everything seems to drag on and on, leaving her with nothing to do in a dimly lit room and a motionless boy for company. On the other hand, she's more than aware of all the ways in which perception can be warped by emotion and action- or lack of. It takes maybe somewhere over five minutes before she realizes that Chikusa's eyes have opened again... No hint of pink, no traces of not-exactly-bruising, and focused directly on her.

She blinks at him. Much more slowly, he blinks back. It's a little hard to tell, because the room is dark and his eyes have always been duller shades even in bright sunlight, but he certainly seems like he's more aware of her than he has been of anything else for the past couple of hours. "Chikusa...?" she asks, tentative.

His breath rustles out of him. "Dokuro..." He shifts in the confines of his sleeping bag, hand nudging against both of hers. Nothing in his mannerisms shows any hint that he's aware of what's just happened. Then again, that's usually the case with Chikusa. "Where's Ken..."

For a second, she has to hesitate, because now she's remembering just what exactly her and Ken bought in lieu of actual decent groceries. "He's putting away the food we bought. Mukuro-sama is back," she adds, both as a deflection of how utterly a failure their shopping trip was in comparison to the kind Chikusa takes, and to cheer Chikusa up. "He said to stay here with you, until you came back." It's not the exact wording, but it's the spirit of it.

Chikuas's head lolls a little more to the opposite side until he's looking less at her and more at the cracked ceiling spread up over their heads. "So I was gone..." Deciphering how he feels about that, beneath the soft emptiness of his voice, is truly a struggle. All Chrome can do is gently squeeze his hand, which draws his gaze back to her.

"...Ken said he knew of a way to bring you back. But then Mukuro-sama showed up, and we got distracted. " A distraction that surely Chikusa, out of anyone, would understand.

Slowly, his eyes slide down from her face and follow the curve of shoulder to arm to hand. "...He told you...?"

She blinks and tilts her head to the side. "Who told me what?" Either Ken or Mukuro could be loud mouthed, admittedly, but Chikusa's phrasing is so vague that Chrome can't entirely be sure of what he means.

Unfortunately, getting answers from Chikusa is almost harder than getting them from Mukuro. Her reply is apparently all he needs for him to close his eyes once again. "...Nevermind." A very enlightening response. "Mukuro-sama is still here...?"

There it is, the slightest rise in tone that indicates he's really curious. Chrome can understand why. For all of them, Mukuro is so important in so many different ways. Carefully, she rises up onto her with one hand still holding onto Chikusa's. "He's still here," she confirms, pulling him up along with her. While he feels like twice her height at times, his bones are bird-light, and it takes less effort than Chrome feels it should to draw him upwards. What's really a struggle is how he's hardly any help in untangling the sleeping bag from around his person. In the end, it's left discarded, half off of the paltry 'bed' that has been put together. "Let's go see him."

Why bother asking if he wants to, after all? The answer to such a question has long been an obvious one, ever since she first met him and Ken. In fact, it was them who were always asking more than she'd ever have to in turn. Of course they want to see Mukuro. All of them do, always, all the time, no matter what. That much shows in the way Chikusa finally rouses a little, and bends down to tug the sleeping bag away from where it's clung to his feet.

"Mm. Let's go."

Yeah. Let's go.

Such a statement has never meant for them to cling, but when Chrome tries to pull her hand away from him, she finds his fingers still stubbornly holding on. Befuddled, she blinks up at the taller teenager slouching besides her. He blinks right back. No answers are forthcoming.

Sometimes, Chrome really thinks she likes Ken best out of their entire group. Unlike Mukuro, he doesn't dance around the question and offer twisted inside-out answers, and he's much louder than Chikusa could ever be. Even when he's loudly denying something or just as loudly refusing to answer, those rare occasions offer enough insight to almost be fine.

With Chikusa? With Chikusa, she usually has to wait a long enough time to be awkward for even her before she tries to venture forth with a question. "How come you're touching me?" Maybe there's a better way to phrase such a question, a more concise way to explain her confusion when Chikusa rarely touches her or anyone else at all... But the words that come out are the words that come out. It's fine. Being eloquent isn't something that any of them have really ever used or had use for, besides Mukuro who uses it for all the wrong reasons.

Chikusa shifts his head, and Chrome can't be entirely certain that he's doing it on purpose or has just succumbed briefly to gravity. "I was gone," he says simply.

"Okay."

Another too long pause takes place. Thankfully, this time it's Chikusa who realizes that a little more explanation is required. "I need to stay here, for Mukuro-sama." He doesn't add Ken's name besides their leader, but it almost seems to exist there anyway. He needs to stay there for both of them.

"Okay."

Awkward pauses really do seem to be the norm between them without Ken around to diffuse the situation or tear control of the conversation out of their hands. She'd like to say that Chikusa is awkward, standing there in silence when a conversation is still quite clearly meant to continue on... But she's pretty sure Chikusa doesn't actually know shame. Him and Ken are alike in that regard.

Even if he understands that the conversation is meant to keep going, that he needs to explain a little more... Chikusa's blank and silent stare says without any words that he's not entirely sure what path to take, now. Chrome gives in when the minute begins to stretch into a second inning with no end in sight. Fortunately, she has at least a vague idea of what the connection between his words and the current situation is. "Does staying have to do with holding my hand?"

"Ah..." Chikusa seems to consider that, even as Chrome starts to guide him out of the room. Mukuro and Ken can't be too hard to find. Kokuyo Land's main building is only so big, after all. "It doesn't have to be your hand... But..."

Chrome can easily imagine how that trailing sentence is meant to form. "Ken usually does it?" Is that the secret which he had been trying to keep all to himself, back when the two of them had been grocery shopping? Despite how innocuous the question is, despite how there clearly couldn't have been anyone else to do what she's doing now _besides_ Ken, Chikusa doesn't answer. Well, he can keep his secrets. Chrome has to admit that he's under no obligation to tell her anything, after all. As they approach the repaired stairs down to the next level down, she asks another question. "What is it like?"

Their footsteps send off echoes of dull thumps against wood; Chikusa's soft voice almost gets lost under the noisiness. "What is what like...?"

"Being gone. Where do you go?"

This, too, is not a question he's under any obligation to ask. Even despite the fact that it came from her mouth and lungs, Chrome doesn't press when Chikusa stays silent. Instead, she lets the question fade between them, guiding him across the entire floor of the building to where the stairs on the opposite side are intact- a consequence of sometimes living in such a dilapidated place. Depending on what's been repaired and what's impossible, long detours are just unavoidable. By the time they reach the next set of stairs, she's almost forgotten that she's asked a question at all... which makes it all the more surprising when Chikusa's voice breaches the silence.

"Sometimes... I don't go far at all." Looking up at him with uncomprehending eyes, it takes her a second to realize where the words have suddenly come from. Perhaps in her silence, it's there that Chikusa feels most comfortable speaking, because he continues on. "I'm not really there, or able to speak to Ken... but I'm right next to myself." His head lolls to the side. "Watching my body move all on its own."

"...Like Mukuro-sama."

Maybe it's not a connection Chikusa has ever made before. There are no tells which would give away his feelings or thoughts. Regardless, it sounds like such a similar description to her ears of all the times she's had her mind sidestep out of her body, allowing Mukuro to take over for his own purposes. Either way, after a second, Chikusa continues like he never stopped at all. "Sometimes I'm nowhere."

"Nowhere?"

"It's what I said..." While no real emotion warps his tone, his voice still drops just a little bit, enough to show his annoyance. Talking is effort, and Chikusa hates using effort only for it to go to waste. Repeating himself is annoying in that matter. "I'll be there... and then not. I'll come back.. and I'll still have done things. But... Who knows if it was even me." With the pair of them reaching the ground floor, he tilts his head back a little bit with his eyes once again finding the cracks in the ceiling. "Maybe I'm so used to Mukuro-sama taking over... that my body keeps going on regardless."

Is it really Mukuro that's responsible for that kind of thing? Chrome isn't sure, but she doesn't have enough information to say anything else. Surely if she asks their leader, he'll just laugh at her again in that way of his. Then again...

There. Behind the cracked and broken remains of one of the few doors which still exists in Kokuyo Land are the sound of voices- Ken's boisterous yelling, Fran's bored drawl, Mukuro's amused and faux-amused hum. Mukuro... Even for all that she's thinking of some of his flaws right now, Chrome has to admit that he's allowed her this opportunity to prod and question. Maybe it's not perfect, but she's learned even more about the people she's decided are part of her own Famiglia. Even more than Mukuro, however...

With their hands still linked, it's a simple thing to quietly tug at his hand until Chikusa's stare drifts back down to her. "Thank you," she says simply, without dancing around it.

Nothing in his expression says he understands, but that's alright. This time, even just a little, she understands a piece of him.

* * *

AN: I just wanted to write something going into at least even a part of the frankly mASSIVE MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES that the kgang would come away from the Estraneo Experiments with. Chikusa is my favorite underrated boy, so, here he is.

I've already written about it on my tumblr, but Chikusa's non-reactions to pain are totally a mix of experiments fucking up his body's natural Rain Flames (you know, the things which weaken/slow/numb) and dissociation, and no one can convince me otherwise. Also, depression. So much depression.

Unfortunately, being feral criminal children living outside of society doesn't really give one the proper understandings on mental illness, let alone on how to deal with it. They're... doing their best.


End file.
